Collateral Damange
by Countryole
Summary: Ziva is struggling to deal with her conflicted interests after the incident in Los Angeles concerning Michael Rivkin that has her loyalty torn between Mossad and NCIS. A Ziva centric character study set during the end of the Legend Pt. 2, Season 6.


_Collateral Damage_

Ziva David let the elevator slide shut on one man and now she is opening her door to another.

Ziva wordlessly ushers Michael into her apartment while traces of guilt prickle her skin and cause her to grind her teeth together as they clash with her need to find a common ground. But between Mossad and NCIS there is no common ground except perhaps the ground on which her father and Leon Vance stand. No, her ground is unstable and wavering as the threads that had previously held it together became frayed by secrets and broken by lies.

When he kisses her she sees someone else and her eyes are storming with apprehension while every nerve in her body screams at her to stop because it isn't right. Her reservation against the reason he's here side tracks her relief that he is safe. Love becomes superficial in the fluorescent light of her hallway and Michael becomes a stranger as he leads her toward the bedroom. Yet instead of questioning him she remains silent, letting him mistake her misplaced hunger for knowledge as lust. Ziva mistakes it too, forgoing her own suspicions in exchange for a temporary release that leaves her unable to sleep even after the burn of his hands fades from her skin.

She'll regret this in the morning when she has to look across the aisle to the desk where her partner will be watching. Tony isn't stupid. He had not been fooled by her diversions and their less than amiable confrontations that had occurred over the past two days only serve to remind Ziva of her own misgivings. She hates being angry at him, but his constant and relentless pursuit of Michael for no reason outside the fact that he is worried her silence is "affecting this agency's ability to operate" has her trying to imagine the eighteen different ways she really can kill someone with a paper clip.

Most of all however, Ziva hates that he is right.

Beside her Michael stirs and for a moment she holds her breath, not wanting him to wake just yet. She cannot face him while she's drowning in the river of her thoughts, doubts like lead weights pulling her to the bottom. Part of her fears what his answers will be to her questions – if he will be able to answer at all – while the other part fears what she might do to him if he tells the truth.

And then there is the truth itself. She fears that too.

Her thoughts stagger back to Tony. The morning before in MTAC he hadn't asked her the question she knew was on his mind. He didn't have to because they both already knew the answer. The real predicament had been whether or not to admit it, to give up Michael's name, and when she did Tony met her with a genuine look of surprise. He had not expected her to give in so easily and it chilled her to think he had second guessed her in his mistrust.

His lack of confidence in her convictions – her loyalty to a place that had become just as much a home as Israel has once been – stings her far worse then she could have imagined and doubly more than she would ever care to admit.

In a moment of selfish pride she pushed back just as fiercely as Tony had pushed her. Instead of being comforted by his closeness and the green of his eyes Ziva had felt overwhelmed by consequence. Anger created a foundation for hurtful words and for every step one of them gained in the conversation two steps were lost in translation. It was all she could do to keep a hiss from sliding between her clenched teeth, her fingers folding into fists at her side while his accusations bit into her, each one more vehement than the last. She had asked him if he was jealous, trying so desperately to find stability in a situation that was quickly turning chaotic at best and her question was met with a stoic and unwavering 'No.'

She did not believe him. Then again there are many things she does not believe and even more she is starting to question.

Remorse contradicts the anger burning in her chest and for a moment she wonders if she's going to be sick as she turns her cheek into the coolness of her pillow. Her dark curls fall haphazardly across her face and they act as a veil of shadow for the thoughts that linger there. Eli David is at fault for the quandary at hand, international allegiances had lines clearly drawn and her father had taken one too many missteps over them. Michael had not helped himself either by giving NCIS a reason to be suspicious of him and now that suspicion would allocate itself with her as well simply through association.

Is it unreasonable to say she is a victim of circumstance?

She can taste the metallic tang of bile on her tongue when the nausea passes and it lingers, the aftertaste of doubt.

Even with the warmth of another body next to her she is restless and cold. She wants to wake Michael and ask him to tell her everything about his assignment, about her father, the truth. Eli David holds all of them in the palm of his hand, a puppeteer of men and she can't help but wonder if Michael's intentions are fueled by nothing more than his ingrained sense of duty.

Ziva also wants to pick up the cell phone sitting on the night stand, her fingers itching to curl around the plastic and dial the familiar pattern of numbers worn into the keypad. Her stubborn thoughts know she owes Tony an explanation and she wants to explain, but the same stubborn thoughts hold her back and she leaves the phone resting where it has been all night.

She's too upset to have a coherent conversation with a man she isn't even sure trusts her anyway and in the aftermath of their argument she's not certain if she can trust him either.

Ziva turns to Michael and tries to find some form of consolation in his presence. She lets her slender fingers splay across his chest and she presses her lips with tender uncertainty to his collarbone. She's searching for familiarity in the salty taste of his skin and the ease with which she fits herself into the curve of his body, but as he wakes just long enough to envelope her in an embrace she finds no relief.

There is only hollow emptiness in his touch and though the gesture is meant to steady her faltering resolve, the strength of his arms does little to hold up the reality that is crumbling around her.

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**_A/N:_** _Reviews, good or bad, would be greatly appreciated. A special thanks to __Zaedah __for being a wonderful beta while working on this piece. I hope this character study of Ziva based on the end of Legend Part 2 provides some thoughtful insight into her head._


End file.
